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<title>Freddy's Halcyon by burbankstorylady (wearenotamused)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597124">Freddy's Halcyon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearenotamused/pseuds/burbankstorylady'>burbankstorylady (wearenotamused)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Room With a View - All Media Types, Maurice - E. M. Forster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:21:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>388</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearenotamused/pseuds/burbankstorylady</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a prompt so far, a little brainstorm after turning the pages of MAURICE and A ROOM WITH A VIEW again. I don't know where it might lead. Alec Scudder will be coming to Windy Corner. Time will progress quickly. The title is a working one and probably will change.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Freddy Honeychurch/Alec Scudder, Maurice Hall/Alec Scudder, Maurice Hall/Lestrade (Sherlock Holmes)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Freddy's Halcyon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Honeychurch, unlike his friend Hall, had no desire to hold the master’s hand. Honeychurch thought only of how wonderful it would be to go for a bath in the sea, just like he did at home in the pond near Windy Corner. The thirty or some odd thirteen-and-fourteen-year-old boys clamored to lead the walk on the sand, to stand near one of the three masters, and to join hands with what they saw as greatness. Honeychurch could not understand it. He admired the masters, thought highly of them, revered them as much as the other boys, as he ought, but he thought joining hands was going a bit far. Besides, it was the last day of term, the last day of his prep school life, the last day he would see many of his friends, for it wasn’t all of them who were going to Eton like Honeychurch--Hall, for example, was set down for Sunnington--and so Honeychurch wanted to spend the day with them, preferably in the water. “What do you say, Hall? Shall we go for a bath?”</p><p>“No, indeed. Ducie wants a word.” </p><p>“What for?” </p><p>Hall shrugged. “I don’t know. A pi-jaw, I expect, about Crown and Country, or the Holy Fields.”</p><p>Honeychurch yawned. “Lucky you.” By lucky, of course, he very much meant unlucky. </p><p>Senior Master Ducie took Hall aside and they walked apart from the others, apparently in serious discourse despite occasional, polite laughter at some stupid joke. </p><p>“Say, Mr. Abraham,” Honeychurch spoke to the headmaster. “Might we go swimming?”</p><p>The headmaster gave Honeychurch a stern look. “No, indeed, Honeychurch. The tide will be out soon.” </p><p>Honeychurch exhaled his exasperation. His cowlicked hair fell over his eyes. One more day, he thought. Just one more day and he’d be back at Windy Corner with Mother and Father and Lucy. He thought with relish of swimming in the pond with Lucy, who he imagined was still young enough for it to not be improper. He had the whole summer to look forward to, long days at Windy Corner playing tennis on the lawn. He would be off to Eton next term, but he would have three whole months of nothing worse to anticipate than perhaps a visit from “poor Charlotte” (his mother’s first cousin) on account of the bad boiler at Tunbridge Wells.</p>
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